


My Heart Banging Like a Gun

by kellyh000



Series: 00Q fanfiction translations [13]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hacker!Q, M/M, Trust Issues, contract killer!Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:43:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28835799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellyh000/pseuds/kellyh000
Summary: Assasin!Bond and hacker!Q slowly forms some sort of ...bond (pun intended).
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: 00Q fanfiction translations [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767181
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	My Heart Banging Like a Gun

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [My Heart Banging Like a Gun](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23309530) by [IrisInStrangeland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisInStrangeland/pseuds/IrisInStrangeland). 



> This story is orignially by [ IrisInStrangeland ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisInStrangeland/pseuds/IrisInStrangeland) , thank you for letting me translate your story. Title inspired by Put the Radio On by Keane.

Q was startled awake by a cold feeling against his cheek. It was metal which was slowly warming up; and more precisely, it was a gun. 

There was someone beside him.

Q tried, as discreetly as possible, to reach for the dagger under his pillow--he wasn't good at this, so he went great lengths to hide himself, and turned his home into a fortress to keep danger at bay.

"If I were you, I'd take my hand out the pillow, Q." The barrel pressed a bit harder.

His voice made Q open his eyes and stared at the man in front of him in fury. He tilted his head towards the gun pointed at him. "Do you mind putting it away, Mr. Bond?"

Bond smiled and tucked the gun under his belt. It was then when he noticed that the safety of the gun was still on. “This is not funny, 007.”

Bond gestured him to look at his left arm. “I need help.”

Q reached out for his glasses on the nightstand and turned on the light. He saw a wound on Bond’s shoulder, the still-bleeding and very fresh kind. Q could not help but frowned when he saw the blood stains on his floor.

Bond knew what Q was unhappy about. “I’ll clean it up tomorrow.”

“I’m not a doctor, Mr. Bond.” Q rose from the bed and yawned. He pinched his nose. “There won’t be a next time. Get to the dining room and don’t step on the blood.”

Bond, who was asking for help in the first place quietly obeyed and headed towards the dining room in silence. He heard Q asking, “What happened to my security systems? Why didn’t I notice you coming in?”

“The window in your study.” Bond answered. “I set something up the last time I was here. You know, since this is the third time I’m in here.”

Q muttered a low “Cheating.” and followed him. When Bond passed through the living room, Q’s cats raised their ears and watched them warily.

Bond sat down at the dining room and took his gun from his lower back to set it on the table. Q spared a glance at the gun and brought over the first aid kit from the cupboards. Q then held up the gun and unsurprisingly, attracted Bond’s gaze. He removed the magazine and stuffed it in a drawer nearby.

“It’s better for the both of us,” Q explained as he opened the kit.

Bond nodded. “I agree. Now, will you start helping me, Q?”

Q poured the disinfectants on the gauze and carelessly slapped it on Bond’s wound. He gave Bond a smile that was _beyond_ polite. “Of course,” Q did not hold any strength back and it had got to hurt like hell.

It was not pleasant, the first time they met each other. Not that the times the met since then have been pleasant. In most cases, Q was not keen on meeting Bond, whether it be the man ringing his doorbell or simply breaking in his house.

But their first meeting, it was particularly unpleasant. Because Bond was going to kill Q.

It was not personal.

Bond was a killer for hire who was paid for his work.

And lots of Q’s rivals had enough money to have Bond on their payroll. To be honest, Q was not really surprised that the day would come where he would be assassinated.

But no matter what the reason was, being held at gunpoint was not an enjoyable experience.

Normal people could never find Q. Even if they did, it was nearly impossible to break into his house, and so far, no one managed to do so. So when he saw Bond’s face and recognized him as the legendary 007, Q, knowing how bad at fighting he was, raised both hands in the air to show the switch to Bond.

Bond found his action was pretty much as intimidating a kitten raising its paws. It was a bit amusing, actually. “What’s that?”

Q was not offended by Bond’s contempt. “It’s a dead man’s switch.”

Thinking if he had missed something, Bond studied Q for a moment and found his target even more hilarious-the guy couldn’t even bluff decently. “You have no wires on you.”

“I don’t need wires.” Q calmly stated. “You can take a look at the monitor on your right. You’ll find your personal info on it, such as your real name, aliases, residence and bank accounts. Once I die, the switch will send a signal and disclose all your information. How many people do you think will be hunting you when that happens? How long would you survive, Mr. 007?”

Bond stared at Q with his gun raised steadily. He turned to look at the monitor and turned back after a few moments. “I normally don’t ask this,” Bond looked at Q in the eye, “because I usually just shoot and don’t ask questions at all.” Q held onto the switch tightly, looking back at him with wariness.

Bond smiled. “Who are you, exactly?”

“You don’t know who you’re killing?”

While Q was in utter disbelief, Bond did not think that it was a big deal. “Normally I don’t care. Knowing basic info and the face is enough. If it weren’t, it was just killing a few more. But, _you_. You are quite different from the person they described. And they hid some very important information about you that made me ask for a much lower price than what I deserve.”

Q raised his eyebrows. “Who did they tell you I was?”

“Some hacker that stole their money.” Bond replied. “But regular hackers are not privy to such information, especially my transaction records. Unless…”

“Unless he can crack the so-called ‘impenetrable’ website, Avalon, for hiring assassins.” Q nodded. “So you think I have some sort of connection to Avalon.”

“Indeed, I do.” Bond came closer to him. “In fact, I think you’re the founder of Avalon.” The gun was so close that Q felt physically ill. “Am I wrong or are you the legendary ‘Q’?”

Q’s silence confirmed his guess. “I am not a ‘legend’. I still post regularly.” He lowered his eyes at the gun, and he could feel the burn in his arms from keeping them raised. Bond’s gun must be heavier than his switch, but Bond looked like he barely noticed the weight in his hands.

“But you’re not admin anymore.”

Q shrugged. “I sold the site for a good price. I only handle the data security now.” He paused for a beat and indicated at the switch in his hand. “Data is quite useful.”

Bond mused for a few seconds. “You have to promise me something.”

Fazed, Q only got more suspicious. “What?”

Bond’s next answer was beyond his imagination. He was still holding the gun steadily to Q’s head. “Give me more money.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I don’t want to kill you anymore.” The corners of his lips were tugged up. “I need an incentive to quit.”

“I really don’t think you can save your own skin after you dispose me.” Q gestured at the switch.

“I don’t think you fully comprehend what I could do.” Bond raised his gun. “And I could always come back and try again. Given the information you have, I have other reasons to kill you; besides the money.”

“Can we stop using the word ‘kill’? Bing held at gunpoint and hearing ‘killing’ over and over again makes me nervous.” Bond chuckled, and Q had to bite his tongue from lashing out. “I’ll give you twice of what they paid you, so put the gun down. NOW.”

Bond studied him for a while and moved the muzzle away, though he did not put the safety back on. “I trust that you know how much that is. I’ll check my accounts.”

“I ‘ll wire the money the second you leave,” Q lowered his raised hands, but he still held onto the switch tightly in his grip.

Bond’s gaze lingered on the dead-man’ switch while backing away towards the door. “You know, if I find out people found out things about me, you will be my primary suspect. People will be lining up to kill me, but I will definitely end you before someone gets to me.”

Q stared back. “In that case, I suggest you convince me to guard your secrets.”

Bond was already by the door. “Duly noted.” He paused for a beat. “FYI, I did not let you live just because of the money.” He smiled. “Until next time, Q.”

The man clicked the safety back on, used his other hand behind his back to open the door and disappeared without a trace.

Q walked over to the door to reset the security systems, and mentally planned the things he was going to do. He needed to find the people who knew his identity and residence, plan for a clean-up and upgrade his security.

A week later, Q found a letter at the door. Someone must’ve slipped it under the door.

He put on rubber gloves before picking it up. There was a ‘Q’ on the envelope.

Q opened the letter, which enclosed a few photos. Q read the letter first.

It said,

_So sorry for pointing a gun at you. Consider this my apology present._

_J.B._

_p.s. I did ask them to smile, but then, it is rather difficult to smile when you know you’re about to die._

Q knew 007’s real name, and besides, it wasn’t like he was held at gunpoint on a daily basis, so he immediately knew who had sent him the letter. He did not recognize the men in the photos, but Bond wrote their names on their respective picture (which was quite considerate of him).

Within minutes, Q realized that Bond had eliminated his employers and saved Q a lot of trouble. With the names, Q quickly acquired the information he required. But with them already dead, there won’t be much left to take care of.

Q burned the letter and the photographs after memorizing the names. He looked into the flames and mused, until he grabbed his laptop and opened the blueprints of his designs.

The second time Bond came to Q’s house, he knocked.

He got into the house, still high on adrenaline, pressed Q against the door and kissed the living lights out of him, followed by sex on the sofa. Things had proceeded so fast that Q was still a bit confused when he woke up the next morning.

Out of habit, Q set the kettle on the stove, fed the cats, and stared at the kettle for quite a while before snapping back into the real world. Q grabbed his computer to research why Bond had shown up on his doorstep all of a sudden.

Bond answered with a shrug. “I missed you, that’s all.”

Q rolled his eyes and turned his laptop screen towards Bond; the screen showed the records of the digital transaction. “You’re certain it had nothing to do with the fact that your last hit was in the neighborhood and you needed a place to lay low?”

Bond raised his eyebrows and set his cup down. “Did you know that some would find you quite a mood-killer?”

“Most people would find me scary,” Q shut his laptop. “Did you finish your business? If you bring unwelcome guests to my doorstep, I will hand you over on a silver platter without batting an eye.”

“Oh, and they call me a heartless bastard.” Bond covered his heart, pretending to be wounded.

“Speaking of heartless, I have something for you in return.” Q stood up and walked over to a shelf. He pulled out a drawer, and the second his palm landed on the grip, he felt the cold blade of a knife against his neck.

“Watch your next move, Q.” Bond’s voice was no longer relaxed.

Q cursed himself for being stupid and then cursed Bond inwardly. He released the handle and took the muzzle instead. Q slowly turned, and presented the gun to Bond.

He noticed the knife was one of his, but now, the knife was at his throat instead of his kitchen. _This is stupid,_ Q thought how he was being threatened with his own knife in his house; all because he wanted to give a present.

Q couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He handed Bond the gun with one hand while showing him his other empty palm. This was not how he pictured himself giving out the present. “This is for you.” Q said through clenched teeth.

Bond accepted the gun and then set the knife down. “Sorry, old habit.” He started to study his gift.

“What a wonderful habit you’ve got,” Q returned to the dining table and sat down. He knew he was asking for it when he pulled out a gun in front of an assassin; but this time, he was the one who let the assassin in his house in the first place and said assassin had pointed a lethal weapon at him again.

Q reached out for his laptop. He really needed to hack some accounts to blow off the steam.

“Better safe than sorry,” Bond couldn’t find anything special about the gun, so he sat down beside Q. “So, my gift is a gun that you made it yourself?”

“It has its’ feature,” Q replied dryly as he broke several firewalls. “but I don’t want to tell you what they are now.” He paused to glance at the gun in Bond’s hand. “I’d like to take it back, really, but I’m worried that you’d point a knife at me again.”

Bond scooted closer, and Q subconsciously leaned away from him.

“I really am sorry. Although, it might be best to put the gift on the table next time. You know, so there won’t be any misunderstanding.”

“I don’t think there will be a next time,” Q stared at the balance of the account. He really had no use for such little amount of money, so he logged out the account.

When he looked up, Bond was looking at him with a smile on his face, which made him accidently ‘slipped’ and hacked right back in. Q sighed and turned his attention back onto the screen. He took a little pocket money before logging out.

Bond remained where he was.

Q had to keep his gaze on the screen and hack the same account for the third time to return the pocket money he took. “After you log your palm code into the gun, only you can fire it. Even if someone else got ahold of the gun, they won’t be able to use it.”

Q stopped typing after giving his explanation. There room was suddenly overwhelmingly silent without the sound of the keyboard or anyone talking.

Q looked up to Bond again and saw him studying the gun. For a moment, he didn’t know whether he should speak or not. It wasn’t until the kettle whistled, he looked away.

“You don’t have to take it if you have any reservations.”

“I’m not used to receiving such practical presents. I’ll have someone examine it,” Bond stood up after he finished studying the gun. “if you don’t mind.”

“Why would I?” Q shrugged, “I don’t trust you either.”

Bond gave him a low chuckle. “Because someone may steal your tech?”

“Maybe I’ll sell the tech before they can steal it.” Q retorted with raised eyebrows.

“Alright, then. Sorry about pointing another weapon at you; your gift is much appreciated. Just one last question,” Bond’s fingers touched Q’s forearm, “do you open your door for anyone you know but don’t trust?”

“No,” Q replied, “only the killers who like pointing weapons at me and brings me gifts.”

Two weeks later, Q got the letter that Bond slipped into his house under his door. It was about his gift.

_Your gift is spectacular. Apologies for holding a knife at your throat. I have an apology present enclosed._

_J.B._

_P.S. I prefer portable, exploding little trinkets. Pens would be nice._

Q read the newspaper clip in the envelope. It was an obituary of a spy that was undercover in Avalon. Q went cover his accounts and records quickly just to make sure and sent the information to Avalon’s security department to investigate further. He took another look at Bond’s letter.

Q mused for a moment and took out the blueprints of his designs again.

Three months later, Bond broke in from the window in Q’s study. Then he woke Q up with a gun with a knife wound on his left shoulder. After Q patched him up and fell asleep, Bond disappeared again, but this time, he left with a pair of cufflinks.

Q fixed the window and got a new apology letter a month later.

Bond never stopped breaking and entering, and he had been doing it for more than a dozen times now. It seemed that Q’s defense system was useless when it came to Bond, who managed to always find a way to enter Q’s home.

It usually happened during at night. Sometimes, he’d stay for a few moments or the whole night, and leave with something Q designed, and then slip a letter under the door after a few days.

Sometimes he came to see Q twice a month, and things became easier between them.

Bond stopped pointing weapons at Q when he showed up, and he carried Q’s little trinkets. And Q addressed him as ‘Bond’ or occasionally, ‘James’ instead of ‘007’ or ‘Mr. Bond’.

His cats stop disappearing whenever Bond was also in the house, and Q found the man’s hits were further and further away from his house. Sometimes as far as overseas.

When Q woke up, Bond was feeding the cats. He was familiar with the task enough to complete it before Q gave the order.

The kettle was on the stove already, and Q prepared breakfast while he watched Bond petting the cats, realizing that the man has no intention of leaving. Bond never ate at his place; usually Bond would leave while he made breakfast and tea. Not that Q minded anyway, nor did he prepare Bond’s breakfast.

Q turned the events after Bond’s arrival over and over in his head before he realized that not only Bond has no intention of leaving, he haven’t checked Bond’s transaction records yet.

He immediately got up and went to retrieve his laptop. Halfway through his research, Bond waltzed over and asked, “Is something wrong?”

“I almost forgot to check why you’re showing up here.”

“Oh,” Bond sounded almost amused, “still worried that I’ll kill you?”

Q stopped typing and turned to meet Bond’s gaze. “Are you here to kill me?” he asked.

Bond smiled and leaned closer. “You tell me.”

With his techniques, if Bond really wanted to harm Q, he wouldn’t be breathing now. Compared to how tense they were when they first met, Bond was so close that he could kill Q with his bare hands if he wanted to.

Yet somehow Q wasn’t that worried.

Q decided that he didn’t need to keep digging and set his laptop aside. He stared right into Bond’s eyes and calmly covered Bond’s hand with his. “I don’t think you’re here to kill me.”

“How could you be sure?”

Q removed his hand and waved the watch that Bond had been wearing. “Because you should remember you have a lot of toys that I invented.”

Bond glanced at the watch briefly but made no move to take it back. Instead, he leaned towards Q even closer. “So?”

“So, how could you be sure that I didn’t add a little something-” Q said as he turned the hands to set a new time, “-to make sure when the day comes, you won’t be able to survive me.”

Bond chuckled lowly. “Perhaps I found someone to disarm your little toy.”

“I don’t think you could ever find anyone who can.” Q handed Bond the watch without a tremor in his hand. “you have 50 seconds left.”

Bond stared at him for several seconds, reached out and grabbed Q’s outstretched hand. “Fine. I’m not here to kill you.” He leaned forward and kissed Q, and his voice was low and full of desire. “Be a darling and disarm this little thing while we still can make sensible decisions.”

Eventually, the water was boiled dry, and Q did not have his cup of tea until afternoon.

And Bond left with a watch that did not explode.

After Bond left with the exploding watch, Q did not receive a note. However, he did hear Bond knocking on his door two months later.

The next morning, Q put the kettle on, mused, and turned on his laptop anyway.

Out of habit, he ran some searches on Avalon and several websites along with Bond’s bank records.

“Your cats came looking for me.” Bond entered the living room with Q’s cats trying to snuggle against his feet.

Q stopped typing to raise his head and looked at Bond, confused.

Bond glanced at Q’s screen and sat right across him to look at him in the eye. There was a little smile on his lips. “Find something you like?”

“No,” Q stared back as realization dawned on him. “you didn’t get any new jobs.”

“Recently, no.” Bond raised his eyebrows. “It’s been almost a month since my last hit.”

“You don’t have any new jobs,” Q shut his laptop and tried to sound calm, but judging by his own heartbeat, he was failing. “and yet, you’re here.”

Bond smiled right at Q. “Yes, I am.”

Q stared. “You don’t have any new jobs, you’re not here to kill me, but you’re here anyway.”

Bond nodded, the invitation and encouragement evident in his eyes and his smile. “Yes, I am.”

The kettle whistled harshly, and Q turned to look at it out of reflex. There was so much that he wanted to say, but all the words stuck in his throat.

Eventually, he merely looked up to Bond and asked, “Tea?”

-The end-


End file.
